


The Pip

by WildnessBecomesYou



Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Brief mentions of child abuse, Caring For Your Partner, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, diabetes level fluff, period pain, to make up for the absolute horror i inflicted on y'all earlier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26873959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildnessBecomesYou/pseuds/WildnessBecomesYou
Summary: Mildred's hips hurt, and it's not from standing all day. Her redheaded aunt has dropped in for a visit, and it's never pleasant.Gwendolyn, as usual, steps up for her.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Comments: 25
Kudos: 154





	The Pip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kumquatquintet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kumquatquintet/gifts).



> 1\. do u kno how hard it was not to call this work "Pip-pip cheerio" 
> 
> 2\. A couple of notes: Tampax (the product) started in 1933, and Kotex (the company that made it) along with the company Fax were the two big leaders. Kotex survived, but as far as I'm aware, Fax did not. "Sanitary napkins," which is what 40's vagina owners called their equivalent of pads, had been recently deemed "unsafe and unsanitary" by a doctor who worried that fecal matter would be too close to the vagina during the period. (What does that say about hygienic habits in the 40's??)  
> The menstruation part of a woman's cycle, what we now call the period, seems to have just a few names that were popular in North America in the 40's and 50's: The Pip, my redheaded aunt, or "my redheaded visitor fell off the roof". I have no earthly clue why that last one has to be so long and/or specific, but uh, here we are. I went with the Pip. It made me giggle. 
> 
> 3\. Requested by Glynn; I hope you're feeling better, sweetie! 
> 
> (4. I'm rlly sorry about that last one it needed to be done here have this cavity-worthy fluff)

Mildred rolls over in the morning with a groan. 

Her hips hurt.

“Sweetheart?” she hears behind her, and a hand lands on her lower back. It’s a warm hand, and Mildred pushes back into it. “What’s wrong, darling?” 

“The Pip is here,” Mildred says.

Gwendolyn hisses an inhale in sympathy. Her knuckles press into Mildred’s skin, and the pressure helps for a moment. 

And then the muscles across her abdomen tighten, and she whines, pushing herself out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom. She thinks she might puke. 

“I’ll go make some tea,” Gwendolyn calls from the bedroom. “Do you want to try some toast?” 

“No,” Mildred answers, the thought making her nauseous. “Just— oh God.” 

Gwendolyn comes back a few minutes later, easing herself down the wall to sit opposite Mildred. Mildred has managed to prop herself up against the tub, one arm still braced on the bowl of the toilet. “Tea,” Gwendolyn offers, and Mildred leans forward to take it. 

“Thank you,” she says softly. When she takes a sip, her brow furrows slightly. “What’s in this?”

“Ginger,” Gwendolyn replies, “for the nausea. And cinnamon. It might just be an old wives’ tale, but a, uhm…” she pauses for a moment, searching Mildred’s face. “Well, a girl of mine said her family had been drinking cinnamon with their tea for generations. It didn’t hurt me, at least.” 

Mildred bites down the jealousy that rises in her throat. Another cramp ripples across her abdomen and she leans forward, groaning. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Gwendolyn murmurs, “come over here.”

Mildred manages to lift herself from where she’s sitting, crawl through the small space over to Gwendolyn. She settles herself between the older woman’s legs, back to her front, lets her drape her arm across Mildred’s waist. 

“Is it usually this bad for you?” Gwendolyn asks, pressing a kiss to the side of Mildred’s head. Mildred feels a blush spread across her cheeks. This is the first time the Pip has appeared since she’d moved in with Gwendolyn. She’d just kind of hoped to ignore it. 

“Yes,” Mildred admits. “I usually just get up and go to work and ignore it, though.” 

Gwendolyn sighs. “Yes, well, at least it’s the weekend. No work for you today, ma’am.” She accents it with a poke to Mildred’s hip, and the younger woman shifts a little in her grasp. 

“Well, if you don’t let me get up now, we won’t be doing anything today,” Mildred starts. She pushes against Gwendolyn’s legs, but the older woman holds her back. 

“Then I suppose we’re not doing anything today.”

“Gwendolyn!” It comes out far whinier than Mildred would like it to, but Gwendolyn’s arms are tight around her torso, her cheek pressed to Mildred’s back. 

“It is Saturday. The most we were going to do was go see a movie, maybe go to dinner. We can easily have dinner at home, and I do not absolutely need to go to a theatre where we may not even feel comfortable holding hands, with you next to me about to pass out from pain.” 

Mildred has to admit she has a point. It is just Saturday. Maybe she doesn’t need to be productive. 

Besides, if Gwendolyn is willing to sit and snuggle with her…

“Let me put in a Tampax,” Mildred says, giving Gwendolyn’s knee a squeeze. “I’ll be right out.” 

Gwendolyn nods, helping Mildred stand by pushing at her back. Mildred watches her push herself off the floor, and it occurs to her that Gwendolyn is…rather fit. 

Well, she’d noticed this before. Of course she had. It would be hard not to notice Gwendolyn’s physical state, especially after having benefitted from her physical fitness. It’s just impressive, and it’s normally hidden. 

“You’re ogling,” Gwendolyn chuckles, strokes her jaw as she passes. 

Mildred doesn’t bother protesting. 

When she meets Gwendolyn downstairs, the woman is holding what looks like a plastic pillowcase, shuffling around the books and magazines and built-up newspapers on the living room table. “What’s that?” Mildred asks. 

Gwendolyn looks up and smiles. “Hot water bottle. Heat can really help the pain.” 

“Oh,” Mildred breathes. “Yes, that would be nice.” 

Gwendolyn opens up her arms and Mildred is more than happy to accept the invitation. She yelps in surprise when Gwendolyn simply falls back on the couch, letting Mildred land on top of her. There’s a bit of wiggling to get comfortable, and then Gwendolyn slips the hot water bottle between her and Mildred. 

She has to admit, the heat feels heavenly. 

“Would you hand me today’s newspaper?” Gwendolyn asks, chin atop Mildred’s shoulder. Mildred complies, and Gwendolyn starts reading over her, one hand pressed to the spot just below where her ribs meet. For a while, she’s alright— no cramps to speak of, content to read the news of the day at Gwendolyn’s speed. The nausea subsides as the pain does. 

At some point, Mildred shifts so that she’s fully laying down, head pinning Gwendolyn’s arm to the arm of the couch. She closes her eyes as Gwendolyn bends the same arm to run her fingers through short sections of Mildred’s hair. “When you get hungry,” Gwendolyn murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple, “you let me know.” 

By the time Mildred is awake enough to open her eyes, the little clock on the mantelpiece tells her it’s half-past one. She sits up in a panic. 

Gwendolyn inhales deeply. “What’s wrong?” she asks, and it’s only slightly slurred. 

“How long have we been asleep?!” 

Gwendolyn blinks, checks her watch. “Hm. You fell asleep around eleven. So… two and a half hours?”

Mildred doesn’t know why she feels panicky at the idea. It’s not as if they have appointments to keep. But the idea of a wasted day bothers her, so she goes to push herself off the couch—

And promptly sits back down, bent at the waist, whining in pain.

“Oh, darling,” Gwendolyn breathes, sitting up after her, massaging at the small of her back with the heel of her hand. “I’m so sorry. You poor thing.” 

Mildred pretends not to lean into the crooning. “It feels like someone is trying to carve out my insides with a spoon.” 

Gwendolyn winces in sympathy. “Yeah, that’s— that’s unpleasant.” 

She sits up when the pain finally passes and her stomach rumbles. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.” Gwendolyn is smiling at her, amused. “Shall we try some toast?” 

While Gwendolyn sets up the toaster, Mildred decides to change. Perhaps she won’t feel so guilty if she dons at least some clothes— she chooses a rather loose dress where the belt doesn’t quite close tight enough for her to wear on a regular basis. She’d meant to tailor it herself ages ago but never got around to it. 

The toast goes down easy and stays down. In fact, Mildred stays hungry, and she makes them both some fried eggs. That’s a little harder on her stomach, but it too stays down. 

Before long, the cramps are back, and Gwendolyn is herding her off to bed and promising to follow with more tea and the hot water bottle. Mildred is just getting comfortable, trying not to pout at the wasted day, when she comes back upstairs. 

“Poor darling,” Gwendolyn says, and Mildred relaxes a little under her words. She’s said them enough that Mildred believes her, doesn’t feel like she’s being made fun of. 

Because she had been. Back when this had all started to happen, when womanhood had just come upon her, the woman calling herself Mildred’s “foster mother” had been unendingly cruel. “Oh, she’s in pain?” the woman would laugh, “poor thing, poor baby, poor _nothing_.” Sometimes the words were accompanied by kicks to the stomach or back, or smacks on her buttocks. So Mildred had learned to keep her mouth shut, stand up straight, not eat much of anything during the first few days of her period. If she was going to vomit from pain, she did it in secret. 

But Gwendolyn is holding her, pressing soothing hot things to places that hurt, stroking her hair and murmuring quiet, loving phrases. 

Gwendolyn is nothing like anyone she’s ever had before. Gwendolyn is safer than Mildred has ever felt, safer than she thinks she deserves to feel. 

“Oh, hey, sweetheart,” Gwendolyn murmurs. “What’s wrong? Does it hurt? Do you want me to go get you some aspirin?” 

It strikes Mildred that she’s crying, and she shakes her head rapidly. “No, I’m just being ridiculous.”

“If it hurts, you’re not being ridiculous,” Gwendolyn insists. 

“I don’t— well it does, but that’s not why I’m— I’m being overly emotional,” Mildred stammers. “It’s not pain. I’m just being… silly.” 

“You’re not being silly,” Gwendolyn says. She pulls Mildred over to lay on her back, brushes her thumb across the younger woman’s cheek. Mildred sniffles up at her and she smiles. “I’ve got you.” 

“I know,” Mildred breathes, and for once in her life, she actually does know. She’s safe. 

Gwendolyn lays down next to her, and she tugs the other woman closer until she can feel her love’s warmth against the full length of her back. She usually hates being touched when she’s like this, but she can’t help craving this kind of touch. Gwendolyn presses a kiss to her shoulder and she smiles. 

Her hips hurt, and someone is still whittling away at her insides with that spoon, but she has a hand to squeeze and hold and soothe her. So she closes her eyes and gives in to doing absolutely nothing for the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> As a side note-- in my head, all my fics take place in the same timeline. Would you all like for me to assemble that timeline for you?


End file.
